


you know i want you

by kallistob



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Dirty Thoughts, Legilimency, Multi, Pining, Sarcasm, everyone loves Mr. Graves, he just hadn't realized quite how much, naughty Percival, the nundu in a starring role
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 02:15:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13537551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kallistob/pseuds/kallistob
Summary: Graves is swaying on his feet, his mind drawing a blank. Sexy? His anger is sexy? Newt Scamander thinks he’s sexy? He thought - not that he cares about keeping up with the rumors, but the last time he checked Newt and Tina were together and happy and - has Newt no shame to think about him like this?





	you know i want you

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this prompt i got on Tumblr : "okay but. following up on that anon about the aurors having dirty thoughts about percy. what if from a rogue spell or something (gotta have a reason) he develops abilities like queenies and it leads him to hearing said thoughts and forcing him (naughty percy) to get off in his office. several times a day." 
> 
> wrote it super quickly, hope you guys like it :'D

He never stood a chance to avoid it. The light – of a sickening icy blue, a spell he doesn’t recognize – hits him with all the force and rogue savagery of a hurricane. For a blind moment, all he knows is pain; his head has hit the wall with a sickening crack, and he can taste blood in his mouth. His vision swims in and out of focus, the voices around him dimmed to nothing as his ears ring.

And just as quickly as it came upon him, it passes – he can feel the light sizzle to nothing around his body, and he does not have time to ponder about it or worry about the warm liquid he can feel trickling down his temple because he can see the criminal aim his wand at Tina’s back, and he scrambles for the weapon he knows is kept securely strapped to his ankle. He throws the knife at the man’s back and he howls in pain. It’s the only thing Tina needed to disarm him and bring him to his knees, and then Graves is rising up to, staggering on his feet as he tries to assess the situation.

“Are you alright, sir?” Tina asks, breathless. She has a split lip, her shirt is torn in places and her long hair in total disarray. She looks good.

“Never been better,” he tells her, right before collapsing.

“SIR!”  

-

At the hospital, they tell him he only collapsed because you can’t just not sleep or eat during 48 hours straight, with all due respect, Director Graves, this is utterly foolish and irresponsible and the President will definitely hear about this.

Graves says in a contrite voice that there was this big case, you see, and he just had to see it through unless more people died and he’s really sorry, it won’t happen again, when can he leave the hospital?

“Tomorrow,” the healer hisses, “and don’t you dare leave this bed before that.”

Which is why Percival exist the hospital thirty minutes later, hat pulled low over his head and cane in hand - courtesy of the doctor. He is weak on his knees, he admits; and the man scowled and sneered at him, but Graves is nothing if not stubborn. In the end, the healer gave up, but he wouldn’t let Graves go without this tool to support himself and avoid falling in the streets. He feels a bit old leaning on the cane as he goes through New York, but the handle is silver and sleek, the rest of it is ebony like his wand, and really it could look much, much worse. Strangers still look at him appreciatively as he passes by, so in the end all is as well as can be.

He limps all the way to his apartment, just for a change of clothes. There’s nothing he hates worse than wearing the same suit two days in a row; and the suit he had on has been cleaned by the hospital staff, but it still makes him twitch in discomfort. He throws it into the laundry, takes a hot shower and comes out finally feeling like himself again. Hair combed, teeth brushed, and another perfectly tailored suit on, Graves hums at his reflection - which whistles at him - and leaves his home once more. Out of habit, he apparates in his favorite alleyway near MACUSA, only to regret it as soon as his feet touch the ground again because fuck, bad idea, _very bad idea to apparate with a fucking concussion Graves are you a moron -_

A hand on his arm, and he blinks as the world steadies itself. “Hello, sir,” Tina says to him, not letting him go until she’s sure Graves will not fall over again. _What is he doing out of the hospital?_

“I’m fine,” Graves says aloud, gruffly, and Tina looks confused, but he brushes it off. “How… how is everyone? Did you interrogate the bastards in custody?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer and starts to walk towards the entrance of Woolworth's building, Tina stumbling after him. He wishes he’d taken his cane with him, because the world is still a bit fuzzy around the edges and Tina just won’t stop _babbling._

_Christ, he can’t even walk straight. Men and their ego, I swear to God - he should need proper discipline - oh wow, not now, brain, for Merlin’s sake._

Percival all but wheels around to snarl at her, and Tina stays frozen in place in shock as he enters the building like he owns it. People scramble out of his path as he goes to the elevators, and he wonders how he never noticed how _loud_ the building is. He winces and rubs at his temples, willing the chaos to shut the fuck up for a minute, it's so bad he doesn’t even know where he’s going at this point. His headache has blossomed into a migraine and all he hears is nonsense.

“Good morning, Mr. Graves,” a woman says, and Percival barely gives her a glance. _How rude! Oh, but his ass looks good in those pants. Damn this man…_

Horrified, incredulous, Percival turns around to look at her but she’s already gone, swallowed by the crowd of bustling workers going places. He stays aghast for a minute before shaking his head. He must have heard that wrong. Very, very wrong - or maybe this concussion is worse than he thought.

Somehow, someway, he manages to get to the elevators - and Tina is there too, waiting for him. Percival glares at her out of principle, at this point he is this close to either fainting or _Silencio_ the entirety of the damn building. The elevator’s doors close and Percival lets out a breath - oh god, blessed silence, finally.

Until Tina speaks again, and he can just hear his teeth grinding together. He locks his jaw and gives her his best version of the death glare, only to pause because… Tina looks completely lost in thoughts. She’s chewing on her lips, staring straight ahead of her and not paying attention to him at all.

But then why…

How can he hear her voice so plainly?

_M’ so tired. What I wouldn’t give for a bloody hotdog or - oh, that tart Queenie made was delicious… Only five hours to go, if the tyrant next to me doesn’t decide sleep is a nicety invented by weak people or some other shit. Dunno how he does it._

And she keeps going, and going. Graves is gobsmacked, and still her lips don’t move, and he doesn’t understand how this is possible but the only explanation he has is that he’s somehow reading her thoughts. How?

The elevator dings; Tina steps out and Graves follows suite, mind still boggled by the conclusion he’s drawn. And then Tina stutters to a halt and all Graves can hear is _oh, fuck,_ and when he looks up, he sees an actual nundu lying down in front of him, in the corridor.

“Goldstein?” He says softly.

_Where’s Newt? What is Bea doing here, where the hell is he Jesus Christ I’m gonna murder him -_

She whimpers and looks down at him with pleading eyes, but he just indicates the nundu on the floor.

“I didn’t know he had a nundu,” she tries, and he shakes his head.

“That explains why the department is so silent, at least. They must have taken refuge somewhere. Goldstein?”

_Oh god I’m dead I’m dead I’m fired I’m dead I’m gonna be sick -_

“Don’t you dare throw up,” he snaps, “This is not your fault, it’s that bloody British menace’s fault and I’m giving you one mission now, listen carefully - _find him and bring him to me._ ”

Tina makes a tiny noise like a scared mouse and runs away, taking the empty corridor to their left, and Percival is left staring at the mountain of claws, jagged teeth and poisonous breath that is the very illegal creature sleeping in front of him.

“Jesus Christ.” He can’t hear the creature’s thoughts, thank god for small mercies; but he can hear a whisper coming from his left, like the quiet buzz of bees, and assumes his aurors are all regrouped somewhere. Hiding instead of handling this like professionals, which he’s about to do now. The President would have his hide should he kill the bloody animal, though, so all he can do is A, wait for Scamander to return or B, encage it to prevent damage, but he’s sure that would wake the creature and a pissed off nundu is the last thing he wants to fight right now.

So he takes out his wand, simply intending to cast a protection spell around him in case the thing does wake up - only for strong arms to close around his chest from behind, effectively trapping him.

“Wha -” he says, furious, and Newt says, “Please don’t hurt her!”

“Let go of me, Scamander, unless you want me to yell!”

“Sssshh,” Scamander says soothingly, as though Graves was just like a startled, dangerous creature himself, and his nostrils flare. “Please - please don’t hurt her, she’s alright, you’re alright - I’ll let you go now, please don’t make me restrain you again, Director Graves -”

“You piece of irresponsible _shit!”_ Graves stomps on Newt’s foot and the man yelps in pain, releasing his hold over him. He rubs his arms while glaring furiously at the tall man, and Newt dares give him a sheepish smile. “A fucking nundu! In the middle of MACUSA! I should arrest you and keep you under lock and key!”

_I’d love to keep you under lock and key too, just - ah, not the same kind, perhaps._

Newt’s smile widen, and Graves’ eyes nearly bulge out his head. _What the fuck._

He clears his throat, hoping yet again that Newt is not thinking what he thinks the other man is thinking because otherwise… “Well? Are you just going to stand there and watch me get angry?”

_Hmmm, he’s gorgeous. Don’t think I ever saw that suit before…_

Shit, this is bad - Graves can feel himself heat up, and he knows his cheeks will be flushed the softest pink if this keeps up. “Get a move on, Scamander!”

Newt jumps. “Y - yes sir!”

And Graves stands by and watches, arms crossed and fuming, as Newt quietly wakes the nundu up and cajoles her into the suitcase again. The animal purrs when Newt scratches her behind the ears, and the sound level is equivalent to the roar of a locomotive. Graves grimaces.

Newt closes the latches on his suitcase before looking up at Graves with another awkward, lopsided smile. “I’m done.” _He seems to have calmed down... Not complaining about that, but that man wears anger like a fine suit, it’s so sexy when he radiates power like this... He looks flushed. Is he feverish? Would he slap me if I said I could kiss it better… oh Merlin’s beard, get a grip, Newton!_

Graves is swaying on his feet, his mind drawing a blank. Sexy? His anger is sexy? Newt Scamander thinks he’s sexy? He thought - not that he cares about keeping up with the rumors, but the last time he checked Newt and Tina were together and happy and - has Newt no shame to think about him like this?

But that’s all they are - thoughts, and Graves can’t condone him for them, but now that he knows exactly what the other man is thinking - Jesus. He can’t just _ignore_ them, especially when they are as loud and - and…

_Merlin, his pants are tight. I think I can see it… If he could just shift a little…_

Graves bites his lips, and without thinking, does.

_Oh, Merlin. Yes, there it is. Shit, it looks perfect - seems rather big too, wish I could weight it in my hands…_

Graves can’t do this. “Scamander?”

Newt drags his eyes up to meet his, not looking away for once. “Yes, Director?”

“Do you intend to remain kneeling on the floor all day?”

 _For you I would, very enthusiastically even… Fuck, why does he always do this to me?_ “Ah - no, of course not, sir.” Newt gets up, brushing his shirt nervously. Percival makes a sharp ‘follow me’ gesture and Newt trots after him, while Percival tries to make sense of everything he just heard.

So Newt Scamander wants him. And… and the woman he met just before too?

Graves takes a deep breath - alright. He knows he’s attractive, very attractive even, he’s not blind - but it’s one thing to know it and another thing to just… Hear it. Hear what people say about him, hear how they think of him, how they picture him, what they would like to do to him.

And Newt’s thoughts remained pretty soft. He only responded when Graves replied in kind, canting his hips so Newt could… take a look at his crotch. Yeah. He did that. His face burns as he remembers it, and a part of him can’t help but wonder what Newt would think should he… Take it a notch further. Be a right tease. But no, he shouldn’t…

Oh, to hell with it.

He bends over, and smirks when he hears a sharp intake of breath behind him. All he does is tie his shoelace again, but in his mind Newt has already palpated his ass and taken him once, and now Graves is half-hard beneath his pants. Bloody hell.

The whisper of voices get louder as they approach the bullpen, and Graves opens the door with a bang. They quiet at his entrance, but their thoughts don’t stop existing, and Graves staggers as they all slam into his head at once. He leans on the nearest table to find his footing, and tries his best to focus and draw up his shields because if he doesn’t he’s going to die -

_Is he okay he’s hurt what’s he doing here hospital Scamander why where is the nundu I need coffee_

It works more or less. Graves knows he can’t stay here long, he is running on sheer force of will by now, and he starts to think that perhaps he should have listened to his doctor.

“Emmanuel. Report.”

Blessed be the guy, he doesn’t argue and immediately launches into it, permitting Graves to order his own thoughts. “The three brothers were arrested, sir. The elder confessed to the crimes, but the other two seemed to be under the influence of a dark spell, sir - the Imperium. Neither of them seem to be affiliated with Grindelwald, but we will keep on looking.”

Graves focuses on the Senior Auror and gives a shaky nod of his head. Immediately he is assaulted by thoughts that aren’t his, the black man’s booming voice echoing inside his head. _I’m not carrying him if he faints._ “Thank - thank you, Emmanuel.” He can’t handle it any longer. “All of you - dismissed. Go home.”

Echoes of surprise and satisfaction resonate around him, and Graves just grunts and wobbles his way to his own office with difficulty. There are footsteps behind him - he doesn’t know who they are, but in his state he can’t be arsed to care. Fortunately, the office isn’t far, and the first thing he does upon getting there is _accioing_ the sofa to him to collapse on it face down. He groans in contentement.

“Hm, should I…” Scamander trails off awkwardly, and Graves turns his head.

“Just close the door.”

Scamander nods and does. He places his case on the floor and stands there, and Graves decides he might as well be useful.

“Be a darling and magic me and the sofa back in their place, will you?” He grunts, and Scamander hastily complies. Graves exhales deeply. They are in front of his artificial chimney, and he sends a fire roaring there with a snap of his fingers. He waves at Scamander to just take a seat, and the other man does hesitantly. “Yeah, this is great. You can have whiskey if you want, my stash is in the glass cabinet behind you.”

Graves rolls over until he is lying on his back, and for a minute everything is blessedly silent - even Scamander. Graves could almost believe everything he heard was a dream, if not for the astonishing headache plaguing him.

“So your nundu is a she?” He asks conversationally, and Newt startles.

“Ah - yes, that’s, that’s right. Beatrice, I named her. She’s really quite kind.”

“She’s a nundu,” Graves mutters, and Newt looks offended.

“That she is - doesn’t mean she can’t be kind!”

“I am teasing you, Newt,” Graves says, and Newt flushes.

“Ah -”

“Why are you here?”

Graves lets his shields down, just a little. It is much easier to keep his occlumency strong when facing one person instead of a dozen, but he is curious about what Newt has to say.

 _Because I have a dumb crush on you, old man._ “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Oh. “I see,” Graves says slowly. “Well. Help yourself. I’ll be fine, I just… Need a little nap.”

Newt nods at him, and his eyes widen when Percival vanishes his shoes, coat, scarf and vest with a wave of his hand. “What - what are you -”

Graves raises an eyebrow as he starts on his tie, untying the knot and pulling it free. “I don’t know how you sleep, Mr. Scamander, but I like to be comfortable.”

Newt gulps, and Percival doesn't quite roll his eyes but it's a near thing. Newt’s thoughts are skittish, incomprehensible, but for fuck’s sake, he’s not even done anything yet. Next, he starts unbuttoning his shirt, and he can almost physically feel the weight of Newt's staring at his neck and collarbone. He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, hesitates and finally tugs down the zipper of his pants as well and yeah, _now_ he’s being a tease, he can admit it. Newt seems to have stopped breathing, and Percival lies down again, shiting until he’s comfortable. He yawns.

“Wake me up in two hours,” he mumbles sleepily, already drifting off. He turns on his side to nuzzle against the pillow.

“Yes,” Newt murmurs, and Graves smiles.

Right now, he is essentially defenseless in front of a man who he knows wants him, and if Newt could just bite…

_So beautiful. Look at the curve of his hips…Hmm. I want to touch him so badly..._

_Jackpot_. Graves hides his grin into the pillow, and hums as he shifts position a little again, rubbing his thighs together. Newt mentally swears, and Graves feels delighted.

_Come on, Newton, show me what you got._

He wonders if Newt can sense his excitement. The thought of simply lying there and hearing how much Newt wants him turns him on quite badly. He’s never felt so dizzyingly confident. He wants more, and he hopes Newt will give it to him, when he has all but offered himself on a silver platter.

Oh, yes. This should be interesting indeed.

_Touch me._


End file.
